Brother
by IHeartSam
Summary: An exploration of what it means to be brothers. Boromir is wounded by orcs on a rare foray to Ithilien to see his brother, but escapes further harm with Faramir's aid. After a subsequent encounter with Uruk Hai, in which Faramir is injured, they flee to Rohan.
1. Chapter 1

**_Brother_**

"Down!"

Boromir hastened to comply with his brother's urgent command, unceremoniously flinging himself toward the loamy ground even as an arrow thudded into the tree behind him and a second embedded itself firmly in his rump. He bit down on a cry and shook his head; how Faramir had seen the shaft amidst the chaos and roiling mists was a mystery, but then the younger man had the eyes of a fox and the silent feet to match, melting into position at his side a moment later.

Faramir's grey eyes were wide in the gloom as they scanned over his body, face growing troubled as his gaze came to rest on the offending shaft. "Can you walk?"

Boromir raised a brow in challenge but as he shifted the arrow tip moved, grinding against bone, and he gasped before he could control himself. "Ah!"

Faramir's eyes flickered behind them, straining beyond the tree-line. Boromir could sense his urgency, was not surprised that his bow was still in hand and that he held an arrow at the ready. The sounds of battle drew ever closer through the mists.

Boromir marshalled his strength and stood, biting down on his lip, as Faramir loosed an arrow and glanced back at him. Boromir nodded but took only a step before falling, the strength in his leg stolen by the line of fire that seared up from the point of his wound. He would never make it, already he could feel himself slipping…

"Go," he gasped.

Faramir shook his head and drew his bow once again. "I will not leave you, brother."

"You must," Boromir said, feeling desperation seep into him as he became aware of the tramp of heavy feet to each side of them, the stench of blood and decay. The orcs were closing ranks. Fleetingly he wondered what had become of the others, but then Faramir turned to him, eyes blazing with sorrow and anger and determination and Boromir clenched his jaw against the rush of love and pride that swelled in his heart.

"That is an order, Captain!"

Faramir swore, with sudden and surprising vehemence, as he let loose a few more arrows into the gloom, shaking his damp hair from his eyes before turning to his brother.

"I _will not_ leave you behind. _Not you_ ," he said, chest heaving. And with that, he stooped and drew Boromir over his shoulder, staggered to his feet, and lurched into the trees.

§

After a time night fell and still Faramir carried Boromir, heedless of the weight upon his shoulders, the trembling ache of his overtaxed limbs, the sweat pouring into his eyes. Sure-footed and swift despite his burden, the ranger continued on till he was sure he had lost the trailing orcs who sought them.

Boromir hissed as Faramir knelt and eased him onto the ground, used the pain to chase away the darkness that had been pulling at him since he had been scooped up like a helpless babe.

"You disobeyed a direct order," he said, voice tightly controlled against his pain and anger.

Faramir straightened in automatic response to the tone, his gaze flinty, jaw taut.

"Aye, sir."

Boromir growled.

"Is that all you have to say for your conduct?"

An angry flush bloomed over Faramir's pale cheeks and Boromir did not miss the way he clenched his fists even as he jerked a nod.

"Aye, sir."

Boromir bit back another retort as he took in his brother; Faramir held himself erect despite his weariness, and his eyes sparkled with feeling, matching the defiant thrust of his jaw.

"You bastard," Boromir shook his head, smiling fondly.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Faramir assured him, lips lifting fleetingly in answer.

Boromir snorted and accepted the flask of brandy that Faramir thrust beneath his chin then, gulping a few mouthfuls as Faramir ripped the end of his cloak into strips.

"I doubt it not," Boromir laughed. "Well, what say you, brother mine? Shall I live?"

Faramir shot him a withering look and began probing the wound with gentle fingers.

"Too soon?" Boromir asked, pleased at the twitch of Faramir's lips.

The younger man's expression quickly settled back into one of frowning concentration as he fished a knife from his boot and a pouch of herbs from his belt. He set them within easy reach and began gathering a few dry leaves and twigs together. Within moments he had a small blaze going and set the tip of his blade into it while he gathered water from the stream. Boromir almost smiled at the efficiency of it all.

"Ready?" Faramir asked, drawing his wandering thoughts. His brow was cocked as he regarded the older man.

Boromir took up a stick and jammed it between his teeth. "Get it done."

§

By the time the arrow had been removed, Boromir was doused in sweat and shaking violently: Faramir pressed a hand to his neck, and Boromir knew by the grim caste to his brother's face that shock had set in, was distantly aware enough to know himself that his pulse was too weak, his skin clammy and cool. He tried to flash his brother a reassuring smile, but the motion turned into a scream as Faramir pressed down against the blood oozing from his wound.

Faramir winced but continued to administer what aid he could, desperately shuttering his eyes to the grey pain etched into every line of his sibling's face. Eventually satisfied he had done all he could he stood, eying his handiwork before turning his attention to their surroundings.

Even to Boromir's less-than-sharp eyes, the pale moonlight filtering through the branches was enough by which to see the dark line of blood that he had spilled over the ferns and grass. Faramir pressed his lips together.

"Do not move until I return," he said.

"What? Where do you think you are going? You cannot hope to find the others, nor fight off the orcs in this light!" Boromir said. "I can scarcely see you in this fog."

Faramir gave a queer half smile and picked up his small hunting knife once more. Boromir understood then, even as he raised the blade and drew it across his forearm.

"You intend to draw them away."

"It is our only chance." Faramir nodded, returning his gaze evenly. "They will follow your blood, but if I can lay another trail, they may be swayed."

Boromir's brows puckered. "Mir…" he mumbled. "If you—"

"I will not fail. I promise you that." Faramir vowed, kneeling suddenly before him to take up his hand. "I will be back before first light."

Boromir swallowed, pushed away his worry. "Go then, and be swift."

Wordlessly, the younger man nodded and rose. Within moments his lithe form had been swallowed up by the trees, leaving Boromir alone in the glade.

"Fuck!" he hissed, slamming his fist against the ground.

§

Boromir almost choked in relief as Faramir emerged from the mists, dawn breaking beyond the trees at his back.

"Thank Eru!" he said, closing his eyes in a long blink. He felt suddenly weary beyond measure. He startled when a warm hand on his face brought him back to awareness.

Faramir hovered over him, face pinched and pale in the early light. His shoulders sagged. Boromir's eyes flickered over him then in alarm, noting the huge rusty stain over his left side.

"Mir…"

Faramir caught his questing hand and held it fast within his own. "I am here."

Boromir shook himself and straightened up a little, shifting his back against bark.

"Lie still," Faramir ordered gently, palm pressed flat against his chest to stop him from moving further. Boromir complied with a grumble but grabbed at his brother as he made to move out of reach.

"You are wounded. What happened?" he said.

Faramir sighed and bowed his head, lending Boromir a glimpse of sticky blood matted at his temple. "They bore the mark of the White Hand…"

"Saruman," Boromir said. "Are we so close to Rohan already?"

"Aye, it must be so. With luck we might come across a patrol from the Riddermark, but we must away with haste: I fear some of the Uruk's escaped me, it may be we have only a few hours till they are upon us."

Boromir nodded, resting a heavy palm on Faramir's shoulder. "You have done well, brother. But you must rest and eat a little, and let me tend your hurts," Boromir insisted.

Faramir shook his head, "I have bound it as best I can for now. There is not time for more. We must move."

Boromir grumbled at his brother's reasonable obstinance and pretended not to see the spasm of pain that flashed across his face as he rose, arm pressed firmly against his left side. Boromir arched a brow at him.

"It is well for you that I have not been idle," he said, holding aloft a long stick which he had fashioned into a crutch during the lonely hours of his watch in the night.

"Indeed, I have no wish to lug your weighty form any further," Faramir chuckled and reached out a hand to haul him to his feet.

Boromir accepted the proffered grip, knowing it was the only way he would be able to rise. He echoed the grunt that escaped Faramir's lips as he shifted, pain biting into him leaving his stomach queasy and his mind dull. Despite his brother's own pain Faramir grasped him tighter, holding him fast till he could take a breath and move. Boromir smiled, wondering what he had done to deserve such a brother, to deserve such selfless loyalty, but quickly sobered as he felt the tremors from Faramir's hand. One look at the younger man's face confirmed Boromir's suspicious that only his prodigious will power was preventing him from collapse. Boromir knew that he himself was in little better condition and was eager to move off.

"Let us go."


	2. Chapter 2

"Stop, you need to rest," Boromir reached out to grasp his brother's shoulder. Faramir turned and blinked but did not argue, simply gave a sharp nod and sank to his knees.

Boromir frowned: Faramir's face was waxen, the line of his mouth too stern. He forced his water skin into Faramir's hand, held it steady as the younger man took a small sip.

"More."

His sibling obliged him, taking another swallow between shallow breaths. Boromir narrowed his gaze.

"Where are you hurt? Let me see."

Faramir lifted his left arm away from his torso to reveal the bloodied mess that was his side.

Boromir could see that he had indeed made an effort to bind it up, but the ragged edges of his old cloak had long since saturated and the wound continued to ooze. He braced his hand against Faramir's flesh, peeled the fabric aside to reveal an inflamed gash surrounded by a tracery of already livid bruising. Heat rolled out from the wound.

"Shit," he hissed, gaze flicking over Faramir's face as the younger man tensed, a sharp, stuttering inhale the only other evidence of his suffering. His fears confirmed by his cursory exam of his sibling, Boromir sighed, wondering how the idiot had managed to come so far. "Broken too?"

"Mmm."

He pressed a palm to his brother's head and Faramir swatted him away, fixing him with a darkling look. Boromir closed his mouth about a retort.

"You need willow."

Faramir clenched his jaw. "I gave you the last of my supplies."

Boromir raised his eyes to the heavens and let out a breath. "Of course!"

"Of course."

"Idiot."

"I believe it is hereditary."

Boromir smiled and absentmindedly held out his water skin.

Silence fell between them for a while. Faramir knelt amidst the ferns, taking controlled sips and breaths with his eyes closed as he sought to master the sharp ache in his chest. Boromir stood before him, watchful, propped against a tree for support. Eventually Faramir opened his eyes.

"I am better now. We should keep moving."

Boromir waited for a beat, measuring the truth of Faramir's statement against his appearance, grunted as he bent to aid him. When they stood eye to eye once more he continued, " How many Uruks did you slay?"

Faramir's gaze was dark but mercifully clear. "Not enough. Perhaps half a dozen of them escaped and they may bring reinforcements if they chose to follow us."

Boromir ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and pulled out an oil skin pouch, beckoning with one tick of his fingers. Twin raven heads bent over a map as it unfolded. They studied it for some minutes, murmuring together. The Grey Wood was dense behind them, the mountains — impassable and huge — extending in a ridge beyond, the Road likely still patrolled by orcs and Uruk Hai that they were in no condition to outrun or fight. They had but one choice.

Boromir raised his eyes and folded away the map. "We must make it to Rohan."

§

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Land of the Horselords opened out before them, a sea of rolling gold and green beneath an endless, cloudy sky. Some leagues away, farmsteads and streams dotted the landscape — flashes of brown and blue — and a brisk wind soughed through the tall grass of the valleys and plains, carrying the sweet, warm scent of hay.

Faramir took it all in in a glance. "It is beautiful…"

Boromir nodded and pointed to the north-west where a distant, craggy hill rose alone from the midst of a wide green plain. It seemed to Faramir's keen eyes that it was topped in gold.

"There lies Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld, whither we must go."

Faramir shaded his eyes for a moment and held Boromir by the elbow. "Look," he said, gesturing down the hillside. Several dark shapes were moving below them, speeding across the plain. "Riders approach us."

Boromir squinted, smiled broadly as the figures resolved into riders with glinting silver helms and golden hair. "The Rohirrim. Thank Eru!"

After a few minutes the Riders crested the top of the hill and hailed the brothers and Boromir laughed in gladness, for Theodred himself led them. The prince dismounted at the sight of his old friend, wonder and concern upon his face as he embraced Boromir before pulling back to look at him.

"How came you here?" He said, "Have you no horses? We were not told look for your coming."

The smiled slid from Boromir's face. "We came on foot, but in truth we had nowhere else to go. Faramir's camp was attacked two nights ago and we were forced to flee through the woods, Uruk Hai on our trail."

The tall Rohir nodded grimly, eyes flickering up and down Boromir's person, noting the stiff way he held himself. "That explains much."

He turned and crossed to Faramir, reached out to hold the younger man by the shoulders. Close to, he saw that the ranger's skin was slightly dewy, flushed yet pale, that a smear of old blood darkened his temple, and another darkened his left side. Concern bloomed bright in his eyes. "I would that we had met under happier circumstances Faramir of Gondor, for I have heard much about you."

A wan smile flickered about his lips, "I beg of you not to believe everything my brother has told you."

Boromir grinned but Theodred looked long at him. "How badly are you wounded?"

Faramir shifted slightly and lent Theodred a glimpse of the wound at his side, but said merely, "A gash and some broken ribs."

"He runs a high fever and has lost much blood," Boromir said.

Theodred sighed, having feared as much. Knowing Boromir as he did he knew there would be more to the story, and turned, cocking a brow. "And you?"

Boromir shifted and Faramir's lips twitched, a gleam of amusement lighting his grey eyes. "Shall I explain or would it be easier to show them?"

A bark of laughter escaped Boromir. "You little whelp, you are enjoying this!"

Faramir tilted his head in concession. "Only a very little."

Boromir turned to Theodred, saying frankly. "I took an arrow in the arse."

A round of chuckles followed his statement and Theodred grinned. "Come, sit a while if you can, and we may tend your hurts."

And so the Riders dismounted their horses and kindled a small fire beneath the eaves of the forest. They brewed tea and gave some to the brothers to bring down their fevers, saw that they applied a pungent ointment to their wounds, and provided clean strips of linen to bind their hurts.

While the men worked Boromir regaled the prince with the full tale of their escape from the orcs, and Faramir's subsequent encounter with the Uruks, his love for his brother obvious from the pride and exasperation mixed equally in his tone as he spoke. "I would not have made it this far without him, but he refused to leave me. In fact, he disobeyed a direct order and got himself stuck like a pig trying to lure the danger away from me."

"It was naught," Faramir said softly.

Suddenly angry with Faramir for his humility Boromir snorted, ignoring for the moment Theodred's presence at his side. "Indeed, any man of Gondor would do the same to keep the Steward's Heir safe?"

"Think you that if our places were reversed I would do any different? You are my _brother_ …"

"Mir—"

Faramir's expression shuttered as he looked down into his cup. "I cannot tell which bothers you more: the fact that I disobeyed you or that you needed me to."

The barb hit home and Boromir flushed. It was true that he was a proud man, a man used to command, and to need anyone's help went against the grain. But Faramir had always been the exception to that rule. There was no-one he would rather trust his life to, and no-one for whom he would rather give his own.

"That I needed you to," he said softly. "I would not see you hurt to spare me, little brother."

Faramir's eyes bored into his own. "And I would not see you hurt when I could spare you."

Boromir smiled sadly. "I know."

Suddenly Faramir raised his head, eyes trained upon the forest at their back. A rustling came from the trees, the snap of a branch.

The Uruk Hai had found them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Brother - Chapter 4**

 **§**

Faramir cursed, reaching to the side to pick up his discarded bow. His eyes stayed fixed on the tree-line. "They are coming."

As one, Theodred and Boromir rose, swords in hand. Theodred gave a shrill whistle, much like a bird's call, and called a few swift words as the Riders wheeled round to face the oncoming danger.

"I have them," Faramir whispered. Dark shapes moved within the forest.

Theodred glanced at him, startled that he had the strength to draw his great longbow, but saw that his arm was steady and his grey eyes were clear.

He nodded. "Now!"

Faramir loosed his shot even as the Riders let out a cry and rushed towards the Uruks as they crashed out from the trees. The ring of steel sang out across the hillside.

Quickly, the young Ranger drew. Again, again, again. Pain spiked through his torso, stealing his breath.

He paused, gasping as he flicked his hair from his eyes, and loosed another arrow as an Uruk raised its sword upon Rohan's prince. The beast staggered under the weight of Faramir's shot, snarled, and then Boromir was there, blade outstretched to ward off the Uruk's advance as Theodred scrambled to his feet.

The two swordsmen fought side by side, and though Boromir's buttock and leg ached with every move he did not seem to tire and Theodred marvelled at it, grateful to have the strength of his arm against such a foe. But then the clever beast feinted left, and Boromir moved to the right. Off-balance, he foundered and went to ground with a cry, and it was then that another of Faramir's arrows whistled and found its mark, granting him a reprieve.

The Uruk tossed its head and roared, spittle flying. It's black eyes narrowed in on the Ranger and it took a step towards him, the swordsmen forgotten.

"Mir!"

Theodred hauled Boromir to his feet and turned urgently to the younger man as the Uruk rushed towards him. Faramir still stood by the camp fire, a tall, lean figure silhouetted against the golden afternoon sun. Even from a distance he looked ghostly pale, his handsome face stern and unyielding as stone, eyes blazing with wrath and determination as his quarry bore down upon him. A few yards from him, the creature raised its cruel sword and cried out, but Faramir did not falter or flinch.

He forced his trembling arm back, and Theodred held his breath. _Twang._

 _Thunk._

The beast fell.

Faramir dropped his bow from suddenly lax fingers and stumbled to his knees, blood pulsing down his side. As one, Boromir and Theodred rushed towards him, the fighting around them already dwindling.

Faramir groaned. Black dots shimmered at the edges of his vision. He reached out as Boromir appeared by his side, grasped at his sleeve. Theodred thought he looked suddenly very young.

"Mir!" Boromir took in the fresh blood on his brother's torso and without ceremony pressed hard against it, heedless of his own pains. Within moments his hand was slick.

Faramir shuddered, eyes wide as a strange buzzing filled his ears. Boromir's voice rumbled through the haze — "I must stop the bleeding" — and Faramir grunted as his ribs shifted, bent his head to rest on his brother's shoulder. His breath came in small, shallow gasps.

"Just breathe, little brother, breathe," Boromir carded his hand through Faramir's sweaty locks. "I've got you. Just breathe…"

Faramir's dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he listed into his brother's arms.

Boromir blinked wetly and gripped him tighter. "I would have spared you this, if I could."

Faramir nodded weakly, gasped. "'M sorry."

"Hush, fool," Boromir said tenderly.

A smile flickered at the edge of Faramir's lips.

"I believe it is hereditary."

§

THE END


End file.
